


Floriography for Dummies

by vintageginger



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, hanahaki, heads up some vomitting imagry, t for language, the hanahaki au no one asked for, uhhhhhhhh im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintageginger/pseuds/vintageginger
Summary: As Hanbin plucked up the petals one by one he couldn't help but feel desperate enough to consider telling his fellow member about his feelings. It wouldn't do IKON any good if he choked to death on a Petunia flower, after all.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cthulolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cthulolita/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm so sorry uhhhh thanks for reading I guess and im sorry if its bad or it hurts ur feelings also one last heads up there's some vomitting language, jsyk.
> 
> thank you for your precious time im so sorry ur spending it reading this!!!

Writing lyrics about leaves tasting like ash feels too obvious, Hanbin decides, attempting to brush the taste of lilacs out of his mouth. He can't help but sigh heavily, thinking bitterly about how much stock in dental hygiene products he's going to have to buy to find any semblance of a silver lining in all this. He makes a mental note: _Buy a book on that dumb flower language._

He tries to hate Bobby, tries to convince himself this is temporary. But the time for temporary has long-since passed him by, he realizes as he stares down at a picture of purple lilacs in his new floriography book. _Lilacs_ , it reads in fancy script, _the First Emotions of Love_. The wall behind him provides a brief respite to his misery--the sound of his head bouncing off the surface making a particularly catchy hook for a new song.

There's a brief moment when he thinks about considering telling Jinhwan the position he's in, the **_disease_** he's suddenly been cursed with. And maybe that's the key, he comforts himself, lyrics about a curse or a fairytale? The rushed notes he scribbles into his notebook are incomplete, incoherent, nothing more than spilled ink, but it helps. The clouds in his head are starting to clear, the air doesn't seem so thick, so he fishes the small stem of lilac off the top of his garbage can.

The imagery isn't lost on him. Chuckling darkly, he looks down on the stack of three books on his desk. A thin novel he never bothered to open, a piece of white paper piled gently upon it, followed by the lilac bunch, more paper, and the two largest books he owns. _Just compress the flowers down into fucking dust, Hanbin_ , he thinks to himself, _just crush it all down like you usually do_.

His book on floriography has become a sort of security blanket for him, never getting too far out of reach. After hours of prodding from the other members he pretends to crack, telling them he's been wanting to take up floral arranging. Its not the answer the group has been expecting, he can tell, but it'll buy him some breathing (or in his case, coughing) room for the foreseeable future. The lilacs appear once a day every three days for about four months. The color purple is starting to make him nauseous.

The first time he retches up a stem of Acacia his hands tremble as he flips through his book. His throat hurts, Acacia blossoms aren't the most esophagus-friendly shape, compounded by the tightening of his windpipe as he reads the delicate cursive under the full Latin name, _Concealed, Secret Love_. His handwriting in his notebook is careless, he'll barely be able to read it later, a helpless rage flowing out of the pen instead of ink. He grips the flower stem so hard it snaps in half, the tiniest voice from the edge of his consciousness is jealous. It's swallowed down into silence as he tries to research how to make his flower pressing more efficient.

If you asked the other members, they couldn't pinpoint when Hanbin starts compulsively chewing cinnamon gum. Hanbin cant bring himself to admit that the burn of spice always tastes better than bitter greenery perpetually stuck between his teeth. Some of the flowers taste better than others, he realizes the day he chokes out a Daffodil, Pink Camellia and Red Chrysanthemum within a 12 hour block. Daffodils are the most insulting flowers, he decides, but they tasted better than the other two. As he slides the large yellow bloom into a vase he's been adorning all week in the corner of his room, he hears the small footfalls of another member entering his room.

"Here I was ready to beat you up for smoking," Jinhwan says. Hanbin **_wishes_** his problem was cigarettes.

"How long has this been going on," He asks, stepping further into the room. Hanbin can't help but sigh shakily.

"About a year, more or less," Hanbin replies, staring at the bouquet he made this week.

He can hear the question Jinhwan is about to ask before he asks it, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hanbin glances over his shoulder guiltily, shrugging pitifully as he responds, "I didn't want you to worry. You have enough to worry about right now."

"You're so stupid sometimes, you know that," Jinhwan asks, a distinct watery tremble dripping off his words. "People have **died** from this Hanbin."

The younger can't help but whirl around, hurt Jinhwan would even jump that far ahead. "What do you expect me to do, Jinhwan? I can't condemn someone to loving me just so I won't die. That's not fair to them. I'll figure something out."

"Hanbin--" Jaehwan starts, cutting himself off, "You don't have to hold up the world by yourself. I can help you, you know? I can help you flirt with this person, I know you need the help."

The laughter they share is warm in Hanbin's throat, a comforting softness after the surprising harshness of leaves. It dies in his throat just as fast as the blooms tend to appear, his next words tasting bitter in his mouth. "I don't know if you can help me on this one."

Turning back to the vase, Hanbin can't help but sniffle, feeling more pitiful now that someone else knows the position he's in. He hasn't even told his mom. "Only one person can help and that's the problem."

Even though Jinhwan is smaller than Hanbin, the feel of a hug wrapped around Hanbin's back is enough to tip him over the edge. Somewhere between all his sobs, he chokes out a small Peony blossom. Suddenly his situation feels more sinister than ever. Later that night he finds his lyrics about curses and bangs his head against the wall until a rhythm appears.

To his credit, Jinhwan doesn't immediately press for answers about who Hanbin's pining after. He's stolen the floriography more times than Hanbin can count, trying to collect data about every bud Hanbin wheezes out of his body, who he talked to that day, what each flower means. The day he ejects tens of White Carnation petals off their balcony is the day Jinhwan can't play it cool any longer.

"I've been trying to keep my distance for months but you aren't getting better," he exclaims, shutting the sliding door behind them, "In fact, I think you're getting worse. Tell me who it is."

Hunched over the railing, Hanbin shakes his head, wheezes out a pitiful, "No," as another white petal falls out of his mouth.

"It's worth a shot to talk to them about this! You never know what might happen."  
More head shaking.

"There's too much at stake, Jinhwan," Hanbin says, finally looking up at him. And he knows he looks pitiful--hunched over their balcony, hurling petals into the wind over some boy who doesn't love him back--but he can't bring himself to cross that bridge yet. As soon as Hanbin says their name out loud, its all real. At least this way he can pretend he's in some nightmarish hellscape and not reality.

"I'll get some hot water started for tea," Jinhwan says after a comfortable silence hangs in the air so long it becomes uncomfortable. As he leaves the younger on the balcony, Hanbin can't help but think cruelly, _Maybe I'll cough up some hibiscus, make some tea out of that_.  


* * *

 Jinhwan figures it out about two months after that, when Bobby is off on a solo schedule for several days and Hanbin feigns a stomach bug to conceal his almost-non-stop parade of Pink Camellia petals. The oldest member volunteers to take care of Hanbin, shooing the younger members out of the dorm, some lies thrown out about quarantining the virus. After an hour of talking to Hanbin, he finally gags around a full Pink Camellia blossom, the hopeful rosiness laughing at him as he throws it across the room.

"He's only going to be gone a few days, you know. He'll be back before you know it."

He's trying to be helpful, Hanbin knows this much, but the fact that he's been found out makes him want to melt into the paint on the walls.

"Do you think the others know what's going on," Hanbin asks pathetically, curled up in a ball on his bed. Jinhwan offers a dismissive grunt.

"They think you're sick with the flu. If this keeps up though, they might start to notice. They're goofballs, not brainless."

Miserably, Hanbin offers a nod, acknowledging the older member. The weight of the conversation hanging precariously in the air like a baby's mobile--arms holding other arms holding trinkets waving through the air as they're held up by a single string. Hanbin raises his head to finally look at Jinhwan and suddenly isn't sure when his room became filled with so many dried daffodils.

The next few months feel like tissue paper to Hanbin. His conversations with Bobby are flimsy, he's feeling too much pressure to 'woo' him to be natural. The other members were sure to pick up on how strange Hanbin was being, and they did. He has to pretend he picked up smoking just to get peace on the balcony while he retches up Myrtle, after Violets, after Daffodils. Sometimes he lights a cigarette to smell _**anything**_ that's not pollen or flora. They've been leaving him mostly alone by the railing to let the petals tumble out of his mouth as he pleases.

Studio work proves to be the most excellent excuse to get out of the dorm and out of prying eyes. He's been the most productive he's felt in months, latching on the opportunity to wallow in self-pity for profit. It's not until he has a whole mini album's worth of flower-themed songs that the cold fist of Dread punches him in the stomach. _You're in deep, dumbass._

Bobby doesn't make it any easier on Hanbin, but isn't that why he fell in love in the first place? Stopping by the studio late at night to drop off a meal or coffee, practically demanding Hanbin unloads some of his burdens onto him, offering to do his chores around the dorm. One evening after a particularly long cold walk back to the dorm, he found Bobby waiting outside the bathroom for him, long past the time everyone else had gone to sleep. Suddenly, warm pajamas were thrust into his arms, Bobby's only explanation being, "you looked cold when you came in, so I put your pajamas in the dryer for a few minutes while you were in the shower."

He coughed up Lilacs all over again, bunches and bunches of Purple Lilacs. They were so beautiful and delicate he almost felt guilty throwing them off the edge of the building. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower Meanings:  
> Lilac: First emotions of love  
> Yellow Acacia: Concealed/secret love  
> Daffodil: Unrequited love  
> Pink Camellia: Longing for you  
> Red Chrysanthemum: I love  
> Peony: Shame  
> White Carnation: Pure love  
> Myrtle: Love  
> Violets: Faithfulness


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanbin maybe does something about his situation but then again maybe he's still back to where he started

The coughing fits were getting harder and harder to stifle, chokes and gasps seemed to perpetually loom in the background. He found he had to be careful with his breathing--too deep and his lungs would spasm and ricochet until petals or a whole bloom erupted, too shallow and he couldn't get enough air to stay conscious. They were slated for a comeback soon, he didn't have time to learn how to breathe again.

Looking at his to-do list, Hanbin couldn't help but let out a sigh big enough to trigger a small coughing fit. Gardenia petals blanketed his keyboard, delicate and pure and angelic and everything Hanbin thought of Bobby. As he plucked up the petals one by one he couldn't help but feel desperate enough to consider telling his fellow member about his feelings. It wouldn't do IKON any good if he choked to death on a Petunia flower, after all.

But if he was going to be stubborn and aspirate on flowers, he might as well get some good songs out of it. All this time of suffering with a mouth full of leaves and pollen had left behind a stockpile of pressed petals and full notebooks, the latter of which Hanbin was using to its fullest. However for the first time in months, he was feeling blocked, frozen at a cross-road of indecision he didn't know how to navigate. And he had no other choice but to call in the only person he was trying to avoid.

So many months spent trying to actively avoid him had left Hanbin in a state of near-atrophy trying to dial his phone number. He couldn't remember which buttons triggered which commands, almost hit the text button instead of call. When he finally remembered how his phone worked ( _Your fucking phone, Hanbin_ , he scolded himself mentally) he almost hung up when Bobby picked up on the second ring. Within an hour Bobby was in the studio with Hanbin, snacks and drinks in hand to help with the writing process. When his favorite chocolate bar was pressed firmly into his hands, Hanbin couldn't help but smile up at Bobby's face.

"Thank God you're here," he exhaled, grateful for the chocolate-giving angel standing in front of him.

Bobby looked relieved, confirming Hanbin's suspicion that he wasn't being as sneaky as he thought.

"I have to say," Bobby started, "I'm happy you remembered my number. You've been so distant these past few months." "I'm sorry," Hanbin replied, looking away to fidget with the corner of the chocolate wrapper, "I've just been writing a lot and with a comeback being planned sometime soon...I've got a lot to attend to."

Pulling out his chair, Bobby waved a hand dismissively, "Apologize for hogging all the burdens to yourself, some of us want to help. What are you stuck on?"

The writing session passed without incident, the pair working in tandem as if Hanbin never dropped off the face of the planet. The track they were working on sounded good, much better than whatever Hanbin would have come up with on his own. If he wasn't careful, he would start coughing up Lilacs again.

 

* * *

 

Yellow Acacias again. Yellow daffodils. Yellow Tulips. Yellow, yellow, _yellow, **yellow**_. Everywhere Hanbin looked was Yellow blooms, piled up in vases, in bunches, hanging from the ceiling, pressed between books, all of them harsh and bright against the rest of his belongings. Jinhwan had been a big help clearing them out of his room when he could, hiding them in backpacks to sneak them out. He'd recently taken a liking to tell the members to stay out of his room, telling them his songwriting materials were too spread out and he didn't want them messed with.

Sleep had been slipping out of his hands like sand for weeks, petals fluttering out of his mouth every time it should have been a snore. Stepping on to the balcony he felt the familiar breeze stoking his sails for all these months and couldn't help but breathe in deeply. Not long after shutting the door behind him, Hanbin lights up a cigarette to erase the flower taste in his mouth. He's so lost in his thoughts that he never hears the door open behind him.

"That's bad for you, you know," the first and last voice he wants to hear says, "you should really cut back."

Hanbin laughs.

"You know what else is bad for your health? Not going to sleep."

Bobby smiles and Hanbin can see the moonlight reflecting off his teeth, feels the wind knocked out of him. "I guess we're both in bad shape then, huh?"

Their laughter rides the wind off the side of the building, taking the same path as all the petals Hanbin's been hacking up.

"Mind if I sit," Bobby asks, hand already on the empty chair.

"Go ahead," he replies, taking another drag off his cigarette.

_I can't keep doing this_ , Hanbin finally thinks to himself, _I need to talk to a professional about this, see if they can remove whatever is causing this_.

"We miss you, Hanbin. I miss you. You've been pulling away for months. Let us help you with whatever you're going through."

Hanbin can feel the smoke in his lungs wilting the flowers waiting for him. _Whatever this one is can rot_ , he thought to himself, staring at Bobby's profile in the moonlight. "It's fine," he sighed, waving a hand when Bobby opened his mouth to protest, "I'm taking care of it this week, the bulk of my issues should be gone soon. Your Hanbin will be returning to you soon."

_There goes that smile made of moonlight again._

Bobby stood up then, reaching over to grab Hanbin's hand and pull him into a hug. It was as warm as it's ever been, and Hanbin struggles not to nuzzle into Bobby's chest.

The daffodil he heaves up when Bobby shuts the sliding door is bigger than any he's ever choked on before.

 

* * *

 

Hanbin feels tense in the sterility of the doctor's office. He keeps reminding himself that Jinhwan is in the waiting room should he need him, but it doesn't give him much comfort. The doctor enters the room as a puff of violet petals cascade out of his mouth, crumpling on the floor under the doctor's shoes.

"I can see what you're here for, then," she says, trying to be cheerful. Hanbin's polite smile doesn't move into his eyes.

She gives him a prescription for some pills, taken twice a day with food. It won't get rid of the flowers completely but it will make his condition more bearable. She suggests maybe seeing a therapist, or a rebound. Offended that a rebound could erase his feelings for Bobby is too light of a word for how disgusted he feels. But his mom raised him to be polite so he nods with another forced smile. _Maybe I'll be able to give out real smiles soon, he thinks idly to himself_.

When he re-enters the waiting room, Hanbin recognizes the look of preemptive panic on Jinhwan's face. Sometimes he swears they're telepathic, he can practically hear Jinhwan's voice saying, "What do you need me to do," even though he's wearing a face mask to conceal his identity. Hanbin can only offer a soft smile, and he finds himself hoping that it settles in with his eyes this time.

The meds work great; Hanbin hasn't slept this well in years. He's able to clear out flowers from his room without fear of more appearing to take their place. Dance practices are as seamless as ever without his hourly need to hack up a whole bouquet in the bathroom. He's been able to look Bobby in the eye for the first time in months. His pack of cigarettes laid forgotten in a drawer in his bedroom. The sighs he breathes are of a young man exasperated with his younger members, not the ones of a man paranoid every breath may be his last.

Hanbin says a prayer that he never builds a tolerance to his drugs because Bobby's been more lovable than usual. They're writing more music together again, Bobby wants to bring Hanbin to every new place he eats, they're going outside to play basketball and longboard by the river again. His mind can't help but wander to speculation of what flowers he would vomit if he was off the medicine. Sometimes he thinks its Chrysanthemums, but other times he's sure its the Yellow Tulips.

They've been preparing for a few Gayo stages, practicing and recording and sleeping and Hanbin finds himself staring down the bottom of an empty pill bottle, longing for the comforting sound of doses dancing around the bottom of the container. He can't postpone practice to run to the pharmacy, doesn't feel its appropriate to send one of the management staff to go get it, so he sends Jinhwan one miserable glance before starting the rehearsal.

He's proud of himself, truly. Hanbin manages to keep down the coughing for a solid thirty minutes before he sputters too hard to continue leading practice. Jinhwan catches the desperate look Hanbin throws him before nodding solemnly and calling everyone's attention over to himself. Bobby doesn't miss any of it. There's a window of a minute, a small luxury, before Bobby declares he's leaving to check on Hanbin.

"We still have to practice even if the leader isn't feeling well," Jinhwan says, icily. "I'm going to check on him," Bobby huffs, "You know I'm comfortable with the choreography, and if I'm not, Hanbin can yell at me himself."

Jinhwan can't help but sigh, looking at Bobby tiredly. "Fine, it's clear I can't stop you. But you're probably not going to like what you see." He takes one step closer to Bobby before whispering, "Be careful."

To liken Bobby's exit from the room to "a flash" would be an understatement. Jinhwan swears Bobby moves at a speed the human eye can't detect as he flies out of the practice room and down a hallway, searching for any sign of his best friend.

When Bobby skids to a sudden halt its in front of a bathroom on the 2nd floor, pulled in by the sounds of a person retching on the other side of the door. Horror curls up in the pit of his stomach as he thinks he understands what's happening inside. He thinks his best friend is hurting himself to stay skinny for the cameras, he thinks that's why he picked up smoking, he thinks that's why Hanbin never sleeps right anymore, he's scared he's been ignorant to his best friend hurting this whole time and he stops thinking and pushes open the swinging door.

And...he doesn't quite know how to process the bathroom he walks into.

There's flowers everywhere: it looks like a flower shop exploded in the bathroom. There's stray petals littering every surface, flowers with full stems all over the floor, just the blooms crash landed all over the tiles. The flora is all over the place by the door, types of flowers Bobby can't name surrounding his feet. He feels guilty stepping on them and tries to maneuver around the blooms splayed out on the ground.

As his eyes trace the haphazard trail of petals to the corner, he notices how they fade from yellows and pinks and violets to one singular shade of red. And then he notices the Red Tulip blooms. And the full Red Tulips attached to their stems. Hanbin is sitting in the corner, alone, one large Red Tulip blossom in his hand, the biggest he's ever seen, tears streaming down his face as he gasps for air.

"Lost for words" seems trite amongst the garden in this bathroom, seems cheap and worthless. But the words he wants to say seem to die away when they reach the tip of his tongue, or sound cliche and stupid when he thinks them over in his head. Bobby finally settles for taking the final steps towards his best friend and dropping to his knees in front of him, before saying, "I wish you would have told me."

Hanbin hasn't cried this hard since he was told Team A would be debuting instead of B. Bobby shouldn't see this, he shouldn't see _any_ of this. And Hanbin knows--god, does he know-- what these Red Tulips mean and he feels so stupid in this bathroom knowing Bobby can see him surrounded by all these _stupid_ flowers.

"I never wanted you to see me like this, Bobby," he sobs, spitting out another petal, "This isn't your burden to bare."

The hug Bobby has him in is almost stifling, Bobby smells like everything the flowers aren't and the juxtaposition hurts Hanbin's nose. Bobby has such a tight grip on him he thinks he might be choked out by human arms faster than the flowers ever could. But he also notices that just sitting like this has stopped the fucking _wheezing_ so he settles into Bobby's arms just the slightest bit, hoping he doesn't notice.

"I thought you were making yourself sick, Hanbin," Bobby sniffles, "You've been disappearing into bathrooms, sometimes we hear the hacking noises. We've all been so worried for _months_ and...to know its because of this," He somehow finds a way to pull Hanbin closer, "Let me help you."

_You can't_ , Hanbin thinks to himself, or at least he _thinks_ he thinks to himself.

"Why not," Bobby replied, "You're my best friend, my leader, why can't I help you with this? Why won't you let me help?"

The familiar clawing of cotyledons crawling out of his throat is unstoppable, but Hanbin is surprised to find words being vomited onto the bathroom floor instead of more petals.

"Because its you," He sobs, almost wishing it was more tulips instead, "these stupid flowers, the smoking to cover the taste of plants, the hiding and sneaking around, its you, Bobby."

Halfway through the sentence he feels Bobby freeze around him but he's selfish--he wants to enjoy the moment as long as possible. He can't pull away just yet. He can't let Bobby slip out of his fingers like sand, too.

"My stupid book about flowers," Hanbin warbles, "it said Red Tulips mean declarations of love. There's never going to be a good time to tell you that I love you, for years now, but I can't keep it to myself anymore, Bobby. I can't. I'm so sorry I love you."

The sobbing hurts more than the flowers coming up his throat, Hanbin decides. He also decides that Bobby untangling his arms from Hanbin's and walking out of the bathroom hurts more than the crying or the flowers combined. Another Daffodil blooms in his chest.

Jinhwan rushes into the bathroom minutes later, practically falling onto the floor at Hanbin's feet, shocked by the red on the floor. He realizes after a moment that its petals, not blood, and sighs trying of think of what to say.

He's read Hanbin's book cover to cover three times, saw Hanbin's skull and crossbones doodles in the margins next to Red Tulips. Jinhwan stares at the full bloom in Hanbin's hand, crushed just like he is. There's nothing helpful to say, so he settles for a soft, "He came back to the practice room and--" He cuts himself off, realizing that telling Hanbin _Bobby looked freaked out_ probably wasn't the best, "I'm so sorry," and hope it doesn't hurt more than it helps.

"Me too," Hanbin warbles, a fresh crop of tears springing to his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total Flowers used:  
> Lilac: First emotions of love  
> Yellow Acacia: Concealed/secret love  
> Daffodil: Unrequited love  
> Pink Camellia: Longing for you  
> Red Chrysanthemum: I love  
> Peony: Shame  
> White Carnation: Pure love  
> Myrtle: Love  
> Violets: Faithfulness  
> Gardenia: Secret love  
> Yellow Tulip: Hopeless love  
> Red Tulip: Declaration of love


End file.
